Copyright disclaimer: Was that last chapter seriously almost 8,000 words? Whoa. Talk about dedication. What's the chance of this chapter being that length? About the chance of me ever owning the Legend of Zelda. Meaning no. I do not own the Legend of Zelda.

CHAPTER 23: A Golden Boy and a Man of Silver

I caught a cold the moment that I returned to Skyloft. The change in temperature was the metaphorical death of my immune system, and the Monday that we got back, we went straight to work. We unpacked our things at headquarters and left them in the company's high security lockers. Pipit and I were much more tan and gritty-looking than than the people that had been in the group with us initially. Karane had a cast around her ankle, Owlan was fine, Fledge's scorpion sting had been harmless, and Keet looked like he hadn't slept for centuries, though it was arguable that he always looked like that. Groose was as lively as ever.

In the boardroom, we met with the entire group, as well as Zelda and Impa. Groose was explaining to Pipit and I how he coordinated so well with our defeat of Scervo.

"I ended up takin' Keet back to the city, because he stopped movin' altogether. We all decided to leave Lanayru at that point and then I'd come back for you two later. So we packed up camp." He fluffed his pompadour and continued.

"We dropped the injured off at the hospital and then went by the company. I talked to Impa and told her that I felt like somethin' was wrong, so we assembled a team to come and help you two. We figured there would be some arrests, but had no idea how many, so I just borrowed a school bus from Stritch's dad—did you know he was a bus driver? I visited the old captain, and he told me where you were and what time you got there. So I hid the bus behind a sand dune and came out to see you two fighting your lives out, and Impa said to stay where I was. When we saw Link beat that machine-looking man, we figured it was a good time to go."

"We appreciate your help," Pipit said. I nodded and blew my nose in agreement.

"Let's start the meeting, now that we've finished that," Impa said, flicking off the lights.

"I'll keep this short," Zelda announced, resting her head on her knuckles. "This was a disaster. Poor planning was quite evident, and the amount of you that ended up deserting—no pun intended—was rather alarming. We have Pipit and Link to thank for our success. You will all be assisting them in writing the final report, even if you weren't there to aid in the last investigation. Pipit and Link will be interrogating the crew members at the police station for the next two days. Karane, please help Fledge compile the evidence so that it is coherent. Owlan, Keet, and Groose can begin drafting the report. Thank you." She stood and left. Impa stood in the area where Zelda's seat had been and walked us through all the evidence that we had thus far. We all gave our opinions on what happened, the group listening most avidly to Pipit and I.

The meeting ran from four o'clock to six thirty. The sun had already disappeared for the most part when we left, and I dragged my pack and sword from my company locker, making my way home in the cold.

The weather seemed to be one-thousand times colder than it had been before. I almost missed the dry air of the desert. The city had finally laid rock salt down on the roads, so it had melted some of the ice. However, now the snow sat on the sides of the road in gross, half-melted, half-frozen clumps. I pulled my scarf around my neck tightly, and hummed a traditional Hylian hymn unenthusiastically.

I unlocked my apartment door and hobbled in, setting my sword and kit down haphazardly. I had stopped by the convenience store to pick up a pack of long-sleeved shirts, and set the bag down on my bed, turning to flick on the floor heater. I ripped off my clothes, the newfound energy a result of the prospect of what I was about to do: take a shower! I threw all the filthy gear in the dirty clothes bin.

I unwrapped the bandages on my hands. They had become stiff from the dried blood. My palms had begun to scab and heal, for which I was grateful, though it was not a very pretty sight. I'd clean them out after my shower.

I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water to my shower, leaving the lights off. When the water was warm, I entered the tub. The feeling of the water cascading down my back was liberating. I simply stood there with my head under the flow of water, coveting the great sensation. Next, I washed my hair. I did everything slowly, so as to prolong my precious time in the shower. I felt the grains of sand washing out of my head, and when I washed out the mint-scented shampoo, my hair felt squeaky clean. I washed my body three times, scrubbing harder each go-around. My face was last, and I washed off all of the dirt and grime that I knew had to have been there. I vowed to treat every shower like a sacrament from then on.

When I left the bath, my skin was pruny and I felt exhilaratingly clean. I quickly dried my hair and threw on one of my new shirts and pulled on some sweatpants. Goddess, it was good to be home.

I tried praying before I went to sleep to thank the Goddess for all she had done for us while we were in Lanayru.
It didn't work. I had never prayed formally, though I tried to stick to the Hylian faith the best that I could. I said things like "Keep us safe" on occasion, but I had never got on my knees and bowed my head.

I stuttered awkwardly.
"Er. Thank you for protecting us while we were in the desert. But, wait, most of us got hurt. Uhm, thanks for sparing our lives? That sounded kind of harsh. Well, if you're all-seeing, you should know what I mean. Sorry. Thanks. Thank you."

I got in bed and fell asleep immediately. It was only nine-thirty!

The morning came all too early, beginning with a phone call from Fi.

"Welcome back, detective. I will see you at the police station at 8:00 for interrogations."

I hadn't even the time to stop by Fi's cubicle when I returned to SkyCorp the day prior. I felt insanely guilty, though I knew she'd understand my tiredness.

I told Fi that I'd see her there and we hung up, the short conversation reminiscent of the days after I first hired Fi. She'd caught on quickly, though it took a while for her to warm up to me, or to anyone for that matter.

I dressed myself between blowing my nose and grabbing tissues. I knew that I didn't have a fever, but I still felt that horrid, achey kind of sick that nothing can expel from your body other than time, rest, and copious intake of vitamin C. I decided to buy a carton of orange juice, which I absolutely detested, on the way from work. Orange juice was never sweet enough, so I used to drink Sunny D until the company started selling it with thirty percent less sugar. In my opinion, it was nothing but thirty percent less humanity.
The winter air was refreshing, though it was much colder than I remembered. I pulled my hat over my ears as I walked to the Skyloft Central Police Station, which was where I had been taken when Ghirahim handed me a grenade and I was forced to pull my train's emergency brake so I could get rid of the thing. It was a well-managed place, though most of my SkyCorp coworkers didn't like police officers because they were said to lack work ethic for one of the most important jobs in the city. Someone once told me that SkyCorp had got so many cases because the police ignored them. I, however, was impartial. I never had any trouble with the police and the only time they ever had trouble with me was when I was given that grenade.

The police station was pretty busy for eight o'clock in the morning. It was also pretty busy considering that I was told that the Skyloft police force consisted of brainless, soulless conservatives that had sworn fealty to coffee and donuts. There was definitely coffee on every desk, and I was offered an assortment of donuts (to which I gratefully accepted) when I introduced myself, but the officers were very kind. They asked me to call for them if I needed them, and the officer that had detained me when I had thrown Ghirahim's grenade came to me and shook my hand. It was almost too good to be true, and I was loving it.

"Morning, Link," Pipit said when I entered the interrogation room that we would be using. He was slumped down in a hard plastic chair which had been pushed away from the table. I sat next to him.

"Morning." I checked my watch, we would be starting in a minute. I pulled my tape recorder out of my satchel and my thick black notebook, which I'd used since I became a detective. I couldn't remember who gave it to me, though. I skimmed through the files of the crew. The first man that we would be interviewing was the one whose arm I'd cut—the laceration showed in his mugshot.

Pipit yawned and sat up. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, then massaged his cheek muscles and smiled.

"Alright, bad cop, you ready?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Mhm." I had only done interrogations with Pipit one other time, but we seemed to always fall naturally into the roles of good cop and bad cop when needed. One could assume that I'd be merciless and Pipit would be some kind of merciful.

The door opened and in walked the man with the cut on his arm. When he looked at me, he raised his eyebrows and sat down. The police officer put his already cuffed hands into cuffs on the arms of the chair, which was bolted to the ground.

"Let's get this over with," he said. I saw Pipit clench his fist. The police officer walked out and nodded to me. I nodded back.

"You got somewhere to be, kid?" Pipit asked viciously. His difficulty in keeping himself calm was rather evident. I wordlessly assumed the role of good cop for that interrogation.

"No," the pirate replied, "I just get sick looking at that motherfucker," he smirked and gestured to me with a nod of his head. The neutral expression that I had been attempting to keep on my face fell, but I didn't say anything.
I relinquished the role of good cop. There would be no mercy for this crook.

We questioned him relentlessly, inquiring everything, including the rape of the captain's wife, which he admitted to with a bright smile. Pipit stood up and ground his boot into the man's nose.

"Hey, you little ass of a human being," he hissed patronizingly, "if you don't stop fucking around and just give us the facts, I swear on your life that your sentence will be death." Pipit removed his foot and looked at the man with malice.

The pirate looked at me.
"Are you a fag? Because there's no way that a straight man could look so womanly." My eye twitched. What the hell? I kept my cool exterior.

"I have one final question," I began, though the pirate cut me off.

"If you prove to me that you're a man, I'll consider answering."

I stood. "Oh? Is that so?" I shoved the table back and put my boot over his crotch. "Well, as a man, I know how much this hurts," I told him, grinding my foot into his groin heavily.

The man stuttered and agreed to answer if I removed my foot.
I did not remove my foot.
"What did you need the kerosene for?" I asked.

The man squirmed in pain. "To burn the fucking ship," he struggled to say.

"That is all," I said, looking at the one-way glass on my left. I assumed that I was looking at a police officer, though I of course could not see a thing. An officer unhooked the man from his shackles and walked him out the door, past me.

"I like kinky girls," he whispered.

"Get the fuck away from me, you filthy bastard," I whispered with a benevolent smile. I looked to the female officer and asked her to bring the next inmate in ten minutes so we could calm ourselves.

"And just when I was going to laud you for keeping your cool," Pipit said from against the wall.

"Please. The entire time, I was wondering if torture was legal, or if we could get away with it." We laughed and agreed on our roles. We hadn't done things like this in a while, and were a bit rusty with our mannerisms.

After three more interrogations, we had it down. I was to be the bad cop through and through but Pipit could switch between good cop and bad cop to scare the criminals.

During our lunch break, we ate sandwiches that Karane had made for us as we sat in the interrogation room. We didn't want to leave the room because we didn't want to leave the vibe.

"Link," Pipit started, "is it just me or do things feel different?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... things feel a lot more intense than they really are. Everything that feels good feels incredible, and everything that feels bad feels horrific. Do you know what I mean?" I zoned out for a moment, thinking of my shower the night prior. I was beginning to understand what he meant, though not its source.

He continued. "Last night I had sex with Karane for he millionth time. But this millionth time felt like the best sex of my life. Why is it that this is any better than the other times?" I thought of her twisted ankle and the tension that had strung Pipit very high during the remainder of the desert expedition.

"Maybe you just need dire circumstances to spice up your love life," I said jokingly.

"You definitely do," he said under his breath.

"What?" I said, not quite sure that I'd heard him correctly. "Look, it's probably just us. We've changed, everything else here is the same. Being somewhere completely different, seeing some pretty messed up stuff, I don't know."

"Yeah, that makes sense. It'll probably go away."

We finished up our lunch with a now palpable awkwardness. He had said something weird and cryptic, and I wanted to know what he meant. We interviewed another six people, having nowhere near as much issue with them as we had with the first man, who was named Moldarach. All of the crew that we had interviewed so far recognized him as Scervo's go-to man; we would be having another nice chat with Moldarach in the near future.

We finished at nine o'clock. Some pirates really like to talk.
Pipit and I were offered police escorts home, but we both declined. I walked Pipit to the train station, the cold sticking to my skin and seeping through to my bones.

"Hey, Pipit, are you going to be alright?" Ever since his phone had buzzed on the walk from the police station to the train station, a sense of dread had surrounded him. He walked a little ahead of me, and when I posed my question, he turned to look at me with something in his eyes that he'd never showed me. It was the most complex look I'd ever seen, with pain and anger and sadness and fear and hatred all in one. I was taken aback by the glance, and it only lasted a second, because once it registered in his head that I was there, he smiled like he always did.

"Peachy keen," he said in an accent that mocked Cawlin's heavy Western district one. "Will you be alright on the walk home?"

"Yes, thanks," I said. He waved happily and entered the station, swiping his card over the security scanner so that the gate would open. I watched him disappear into the empty station, and a few minutes later, I watched his train speed into the night.

I walked home slowly, taking heavy steps to get the cold out of my toes as I hummed, worrying about Pipit. I arrived at my apartment with bags from the convenience store in my arms. I didn't have the chance to go grocery shopping when we'd returned from Lanayru, so convenience store junk food would have to suffice until I had free time during the weekend. I put my junky snacks away in the pantry and flicked on the heater. I went back outside to check my mail—it was around this time that my very controlling landlord would send her monthly letter reminding us all as her tenants to pay our rent on time, lest we wanted to be evicted immediately.

The letter was there as I imagined, as well as a thin envelope with my name written on it in bland, blocky letters. When I entered my apartment again, I looked over the letter from my landlord, hoping to read it seriously, but curiosity got the best of me and I tore open the envelope, sitting at my desk. I removed a typed letter with one short paragraph.

How was your trip? We trust that you were warm and cozy. We can't wait to see your tan,

the letter began. I looked at the end of the letter. It was signed,

Sincerely, 45678 and 9-2000.

Immediately, I began to dread reading the letter.

We can't wait to have you tell us all about it. We have been rather bored here without you, Link. We would like to have another playdate with you. We have decided to be lenient and give you another week before we play. Next Friday, we will meet you in front of the Central train station at 8:00 PM. Don't bring any toys like we know you love to do; we have plenty for you to play with.
And don't spoil the surprise, friend.

The letter ended there.
Fuck. Preoccupied with more current events, I had forgotten that the Imprisoned had asked to see me before I left in the form of a letter with photos of the day that they had kidnapped me. And now I'd have to go without any means of protection.

Perhaps they really did want to talk, I thought.
Wait. Did they know where I lived? There hadn't been an address on the envelope, so they'd have to have put it in my mailbox themselves. Just thinking about it made me want to move out of my apartment immediately. However, there was nothing for me to do for the time being. I would have to cope with the paranoia and continue working and functioning normally until next Friday came.

The next day began and ended with too many similarities to the previous one. Pipit was very irritable around the pirate crew, which I understood, but it wasn't like him to be so explosive. And when they left, he acted like he always did.

"Link, are you sick?" he asked me, rummaging through his briefcase during our lunch break, which we decided not to hold in the interrogation room. Too many bad vibes.

"I think it's just a little cold, it'll pass," I told him, sniffling. The cold was brutal today, and I was so frozen that my lips became tight and difficult to move. Pipit handed me a small package of tissues, and I thanked him, quickly shoving it into my coat pocket. I didn't want my hands to be away from my fleece lined pockets and hand warmers for too long. The cold was even getting to my fingers through my gloves.

"I don't have any medicine, but if I see any on my way home, I'll pick some up."

"It's fine. I can get some on my way home." I didn't actually plan to; I was quite convinced that my cold would be gone in a day or two.

"You sure?" I nodded my head and walked into Pumm's. Pipit and I ate lunch, all of the events that had happened ahead of us blurring together, everything blurring together, the world spinning...

"Link?" Pipit said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Yes?" I said, unsure myself. It felt like some strange being had passed through my skull and pulled some of my soul with it, making me dizzy for a few short seconds. "Yes," I repeated with more surety.

We finished our lunch and walked back to the police station. Our second interrogation of Moldarach was next, and I told Pipit that I could take care of that one, that he could sit back focus most of his energy on keeping himself calm. He agreed, and right when we entered the interrogation room, he tensed up and sat in his chair, back rigid.

And officer brought in Moldarach, and I stared down the criminal. His eyes looked absolutely unnatural: they were blue around the perimeter, and looked to be red closer to his pupil. His skin was slick and oily looking, as was his hair, which was long, black, and unkempt. He had horrible posture, too.

He stared back at me, and leaned forward in his chair, though the cuffs from the chair did not allow him to lean very far.
"Detective Link, is it? I have decided that I won't answer any questions unless you answer mine."

"You aren't in a position to make such decisions," I said emotionlessly.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked without moving, a grave look on his face. I didn't reply, and he burst out into laughter. "Okay, ask your questions." He was speaking differently from how he had prior—the unintelligent piratespeak seemed to have been a farce.

"Were you or were you not Captain Scervo's second-in-command?" The other men that we had interviewed had told us that Moldarach was the first mate of the crew.

"I was," he said, tilting his head to the side. "Now, it is my turn." He stared at me, opening his eyes and mouth wide, unmoving. He slammed his mouth shut.
"How-how-h-h-h-h-how-how-how-how-how dark can you become?" he stuttered, finishing his question loudly. "How dark can he make you?" he asked, and Pipit looked up in alarm, just as Moldarach began to convulse violently. His eyes lolled to the back of his head, and he slumped down in his chair.

One of the officers from the other side of the one-way glass burst in and checked his pulse.
He was dead. I figured it was a cyanide capsule; nothing else would have killed him so quickly.
His body was taken away and we were dismissed. Moldarach was to be our last interrogation, we already had all of the information that we had planned to ask him. I couldn't force myself to feel any kind of melancholy or guilt, though I did pity him. He was obviously some kind of crazy.

"Damn, that was freaky," Pipit sighed. It was only 2:00 PM, and we were let out earlier. We were walking to the office so we could report what happened, and turn in our notes from the questionings. "He was saying some pretty weird things," Pipit noted.

"Yeah." I sighed. "I wonder how he kept the capsule when the police were supposed to have screened him," I said.

"You could honestly get anything past those police officers," he laughed bitterly, and I didn't know what to say, so we walked the rest of the way to SkyCorp in silence.

I got home at seven. At SkyCorp, I had explained everything that had happened in detail to every member of the expedition group, each on separate occasion. Between my storytelling, I organized all the data that I collected into separate files, and made sure that Fledge received all the information, as well as the information collected by the police force. I finished explaining the codes that I wrote in my notes to Fledge and trudged home.

I had forgotten to turn off my floor heater when I left in the morning, so I was greeted by warmth and suspicion when I opened the door, until I realized my fault. And then I was just warm. I took off all of my cold weather battle gear and turned on the shower. My ritual was to begin.

Humming, I entered the shower. Though this moment of stillness was supposed to be relaxing, worries flooded my mind. Moldarach's cryptic last words. The feeling that we were missing something from our investigation. My unavoidable meeting with the Imprisoned. Pipit's mood swings, and his general wellbeing.

I'd fallen into a trance. I was still humming, and I had slouched down to the point that it strained my back. When I regained my consciousness, I was staring into the drain, watching the water hit the floor of the tub and swish down the drain. No matter how much water there was, the drain sent it away.

A hand was placed on my shoulder, and I didn't startle. Its fingers trailed down my arm, to my wrist.

"You look like the sun has soaked into your skin," Ghirahim's voice said from behind. I whipped around and almost slipped, but his grip on my wrist kept me up. When I was standing, he let me ago.

"Get out," I commanded with surprise.

"You did not say goodbye to me when you left," he sighed, "and now you greet me with hostility."

"I apologize. Hello, Ghirahim, I have just returned from Lanayru desert, and I would like it if you left."

"But I want to stay." He took a step closer to me, cupping my cheek and leaning down to kiss me. He bit my lip once and began to suck on it, putting his other hand on the small of my back to draw us closer. The surprise kept me frozen for a few seconds.

I pushed him off of me, and he grinned. That was the first time I had seen him naked. His body was amazingly toned, and I was rather jealous of his physical prowess. The water streaming over him only seemed to extenuate his muscle. He looked at me down his nose and pushed his wet hair back, out of his face. The diamond-shaped tattoo on his face was very hard to look away from.

"Yes, you've got the sun in you now," he said. "Your skin looks like gold." He ran his fingers down my neck and chest. I didn't have any room to back away.

"Ghirahim," I said. It sounded bland, like nothing but a statement. His comparison of my skin to gold put the idea in my head that his skin looked like silver, and the thought was distracting me from acting like a jerk to get him to leave.

"Link," he replied. There was much more color in that syllable than I could convey. These were colors I couldn't understand, so I didn't try to.
"You are really quite dense," Ghirahim whispered, coming closer to me still. "But the moon was always smarter than the sun." He kissed me again, the steaming water running between our lips. I was drowning.

I resurfaced, I pulled away.
"Stop it," I warned. "Leave. Now."

"No."

He pulled me underwater again, taking me in for another kiss and sliding his hand down my stomach to my crotch, taking a hold of me.
By now, I knew the direction that he was pulling me in, and it was not one that I would be able to turn around from easily.

His grasp on my groin was tight, and he stroked it incessantly, each movement sending waves of heat crashing under my skin.

I gasped and remembered briefly what Pipit had said about everything feeling more intense. I was shivering and twitching like mad, my knees felt weak, and I was panting from our kiss. No, no, not our kiss. HIS kiss.

"Every time, your body responds even better," Ghirahim mused after I came in his hand. I sighed with resignation and slumped against the wall.

"Why do you do this to me?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. He laid his hand over my heart and felt it pound.

"Because of the string," he said simply.

"That's a dumb reason," I told him.

"It isn't dumb when I have been following the string long enough to want to do this to you with or without—" he stopped himself and looked down at me. "I am going to take you," he began, spinning me around so that my back was to him, "I am going to take you so high that you will never want to come down. And then I will take you down so low that you will never want to return to the place you dwell in now."

"What are you talking about?" I said, turning my head as he braced my hands against the wall and pushed a finger into my backside. I shuddered.

"All the things I'll ever do to you," he said slyly. I could tell he was grinning.

"Take your finger out," I commanded through clenched teeth.

"But then it'll hurt when I fuck your brains out."

"I—ah, mmf! St-stop." He'd put in another finger. He'd done this to me enough times that it didn't hurt like it used to. A gnawing, hot sensation pulled at my sanity. In, out, in, out went his fingers, my breaths, my mind.

"You force yourself to hate it, but your body acquiesces to my touch on each and every occasion. You shiver, you sweat, you moan," he said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to me, "and by the end, you are holding onto me for dear life. You would never admit it, but you love it."

"That's-that's because, I, you, no, that's not..." I sputtered. I was at a loss for words.

"Yes, yes, I know, Link," he said. Slowly, he slid himself into me. Excruciatingly slow. I could feel every muscle in both of our bodies contract and distend. I felt every nuance in movement, every element of every slow thrust in, every slow slide out. I could feel every single drop of lukewarm water hitting my body. The contrast of the heat building up under my skin and the decreasing temperature of the water created steam.

He wasn't thrusting into me relentlessly like he had done in previous times. He took his time, and it allowed him to reach places in me that he'd never touched before—places that brought new, thrilling sensations of pleasure that rippled across my body and rendered me weak-kneed and breathless.

"Ghirahim," I part-moaned, part-growled, part-sighed.

"Fuck, say my name like that more often." He raked his hands through my hair and pulled me up so that my back was to his chest, and he lifted up one of my legs, gripping my thigh. In this new, upright position, he thrust upward into me with more speed and stamina. His chest rose and fell with mine, and his hot breath was on my neck.

Maybe that was what was most arousing about it. His breath, and how it matched perfectly with mine. I'm telling you, that's why I said his name two, three, four more times. It wasn't him, just what he was doing. People lose their rationalities when in heat. Humans are animals too.

He bit my neck. He bit it, kissed it, sucked on it. He continued jabbing upwards into me, no pain present whatsoever. It was raw, unfiltered pleasure, and he was attacking me with it. I was scared because it felt so good.

"Shit, I can't believe how tight your ass is," he muttered. It was incredibly embarrassing to hear, and he seemed to know it. "Oh, your body seems to like being humiliated," he purred. "You have the tightest ass in the universe, and it stays tight. Your nipples are so sensitive that I think I could give you multiple orgasms if I just played with your nipples and sucked on your neck a little."

"Shut up," I panted. My face, which I knew was red, had to have been reddening even more.

"I have to admit that your dick is bigger than I thought it'd be—I had imagined something like a ten-year-old's. And your voice, the way you say my name... were I a little younger than you, your voice would be my prime masturbation material." He grinded into me faster as he spoke. The shocks of pleasure were becoming too much. "And the way you give up fighting it around the same time is pretty cute. By the end, you are practically clinging onto me." He ran his hand down my chest and flicked my nipple. I flinched.

"But the best part," he said, lowering his voice, "is the way you come. Your face has so much pleasure on it that it almost looks like pain, and you reach out for anything to dig your nails into so you can keep yourself here, on Earth. The torture that you convey is so beautiful that I just want to hurt you. Every second of every hour of every day. I want to pull you off of Earth and take you somewhere else and ravage you until your face turns blue."

One more thrust into me, and I came just the way he'd described.

He'd left me a sputtering mess in the tub, a shower of now freezing water washing the previous events out of my skin. I couldn't stand up straight, nor could I walk in a straight line. Each step sent an annoying bout of titillation up my back.

I half dressed myself, meaning I put on a t-shirt, and I went to bed. If I'd had too much to think about before, I had an infinite number of things on my mind now. So I decided not to think about them, and let sleep take me by the throat and suffocate me.

I had a wet dream. I hate that I had been reduced to such a way.
In my dream, I was walking down a dark path. I couldn't see the ground I was walking on. There was no moon, no stars, and perhaps the sky wasn't there, because the air was stifling. Suddenly, someone said my name, and repeated it. The familiar voice echoed off of the boundless world that I was walking through, and suddenly, the air became thick, warm and sweet. It was near impossible to walk and I fell to my hands and knees, unexpectedly out of breath.

Right when I'd hit the ground, a lamp on the ground next to me light up. Upon closer inspection, it was a yellowish flower with numerous lantern-shaped blooms. I had lost the will to keep moving and sat on the ground. The longer I sat, the more flowers lit up. I could soon see that I was on a stone pathway in the middle of a meadow of the lantern flowers.

A warm wind passed, stirring the meadow. It sounded like a voice had carried on it. I decided to follow, and, with trouble, stood. I took no more than ten steps forward and fell on the ground again.

This time, when I fell, I had a strange taste in my mouth. Bittersweet. I swallowed it down and felt my body become hot. When I stood again, I was in a new, dark place. Something cloth-like covered my eyes and my wrists, and I was being lowered down until I was horizontal on my back.

I had been wearing the same thing that I'd fallen asleep in. A cold hand came in contact with my hot skin and slid my shirt up slowly, leaving me wholly exposed. The fingers of that same hand pinched my nipples ruthlessly, twisting and plucking and stretching.

I was struggling, but I felt somewhat sedated. A tongue circled my left nipple, biting me cruelly. It was painful, but my body responded positively. A gasp escaped my mouth just as those cold fingers surrounded my member.

So much pre-come, a voice said into my ear, slicking it off of the tip of my penis and using it as a lubricant. The hand slowly pumped up and down, squeezing me tight.

You are such a horny little hero, the voice told me. I was breathing heavily and panicking. Who was this person? This terrifyingly familiar voice that only spoke to me with contempt? My mind was clouded with arousal.

The hand increased speed without stopping. Every time that I felt like I would come, it would stop.

I was begging. "Stop it, stop it," I said. The voice continued to speak.

I will never stop, Link. You don't want me to. It was a man's voice. He continued working at my burning erection, bringing me so very close to coming, then ceasing.

Though I'd been biting my lip, I moaned through it. I was overtaken with heat, with electricity. I was shuddering, twitching out of control. My body was covered in sweat and my throat was raw.

"Ghirahim," I said, when I realized who it was. "Ghira... nnn, no, please..." I begged. He'd taken my penis into his mouth and was sucking on it with force, wrapping his tongue around it and bobbing his head up and down, still using his hand to grind down to the base.

The inside of his mouth was a wet, scalding vortex, and I was being sucked in (no pun intended). His tongue was long, and he used it expertly, once again bringing me to the edge of coming and then stopping. It was painful.

He shoved a finger into my backside, and another. It was covered with something thick and cold, and it caused a tingling sensation inside of me. He desecrated me, shoving in, yanking out without remorse. Still sucking, still thrusting, he came at me with seemingly endless power and technique.

When I came, it was liberating. My back arched and I let out so much that I felt empty. I was a trembling, stuttering, mess, gulping for breath.

I woke up an hour later, at five o'clock in the morning. I realized what had happened to me and wiped the pool of cum off of my body. I was covered in half-drying sweat.

I called Ghirahim after fumbling about in the dark for my phone. He picked up after the third ring.

"What did you do to me last night?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, sounding all too innocent.

"I had a dream—and you, you..." I couldn't say it aloud. I felt like I'd be sent straight to purgatory.

"Oh," he said, and I could hear his smirk. "Are you saying you had a wet dream about me last night? I guess the way I fucked you really left you hungry for more."

"You piece of shit, I know you were here," I said. I could feel a headache coming on.

"Your voice is rather arousing when you're barely awake," he commented. "Are you sick?"

"You've yet to deny that you messed with me while I was sleeping."

"That would be due to the fact that I did 'mess with you' while you were sleeping. I wanted to know if you dreamt of me."

"Yes, I was unfortunate enough to."

"Mm? And what did I do? Because you seemed to be enjoying whatever I was doing," he teased.

"I am not getting into this with you. I am going to get more locks installed on my door, so stop coming to my house."

"I wouldn't suggest doing that." He sounded like he'd already won.

"Why is that?" I asked, gritting my teeth.

"Because I took a video of the entire thing." My blood ran cold. "I'm considering posting it on a few porn websites. Or maybe selling it, because it's just that good." I swallowed and steeled myself, taking one big breath.

"Look, you horny amateur pornstar, you can keep threatening me all you want, but I don't care anymore. You are ruining me. So go ahead and post it on all your shitty porn sites, I don't care. I don't fucking care."

Just before I hung up angrily, he laughed and said,

"Good, because I posted it an hour ago, and sent you the URL."

I hurled the phone across the room and swallowed down four aspirin tablets.

"One day, I will have you arrested for everything you're worth," I muttered, crawling back into bed to sleep away the last few hours until I'd have to go into work.

A/N: Hey kids! I don't have much to say this time around (wow, that's a first). However, I am going to make you aware that I will be posting a Ghiralink oneshot on Thanksgiving that isn't an AU, oh wow oh wow oh boy! Not trying to pressure you into reading it, I am just letting you know in case you are an avid Ghiralink fan and like passionate kissing...

I'd like to thank everyone for their continued patronage up until now, and thank you all again for the many reviews. I love how involved you guys are in the story!
Fun question: Name the porn site that Ghirahim posted the video on. If you guess correctly, we can negotiate your prize :D
Happy camping, kids!